


As You Are

by orphan_account



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: (sort of), F/M, Fitzsimmons Secret Valentine, Journalist AU, but don't let that turn you off--trust me, it's really just to give it more of a romcom feel, oblivious idiots in love, one-sided FitzSkye
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-21 14:07:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6054439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma Simmons is a successful journalist, but she'd be nothing without her photo-journalist partner and best friend Leo Fitz. She would do just about anything for him, even helping him with his half-baked plan to make himself everything that Jemma's roommate Skye could want in a boyfriend. </p><p>He's her best friend in the world, and he doesn't need to know that he's more than that to her. And so it begins--mornings at the gym, lunchtime makeovers, and a growing feeling that she just can't hold back. Maybe Fitz deserves someone who will love him just the way he is. Someone like Jemma Simmons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As You Are

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bookishandbossy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookishandbossy/gifts).



> My FitzSimmons Secret Valentine was the lovely bookishandbossy. I was SO excited to get you, as so many of your fics are on my favorites list. I really hope you enjoy this :D

**[Day Zero]**

 

He’s fidgeting, which is something Jemma is very used to. In the years since she started working with Leo Fitz, she’d gotten used to his inability to stay still as well as his nearly incessant chatter. She tolerates his quirks and he tolerates hers, and together, they make a fantastic team.

 

Her latest story, an interview with the elusive and mysterious CEO of Hydra Inc., Gideon Malick, had won them a nomination for a fancy journalism prize. Fitz’s accompanying portraits of the enigmatic man had complimented her work perfectly, as they always do.

 

She can tell that he wants to say something, from the way that he peels at the label on his beer bottle. Jemma didn’t become one of the most successful journalists in the city by being unobservant.

 

“Out with it, Fitz,” she tells him with a sigh. “We’re supposed to be celebrating, remember?”

 

He clears his throat. “It’s just—uh, I need to ask you for a favor.”

 

“Of course,” she agrees instantly. Then she grimaces and backtracks. “As long as it’s not helping you move again. I don’t think I’ve quite recovered from last time.”

 

“Oh no, I’m not planning on ever moving again,” Fitz grins. “They’ll just have to bury me in that apartment.”

 

She snorts. “Oh is that your end goal with all the garbage in there? Just to bury yourself alive?”

 

He shoots her a teasing glare and shakes his head. “Funny, Simmons.”

 

“So what’s the favor?”

 

His easy demeanor immediately melts away into tension once again. “I…well, you know your roommate?”

 

“Skye?” Jemma asks. “Of course I know Skye. We live together.”

 

“Yes, right. I think she’s…really cool, and pretty, and I’ve been hoping to ask her out on a date for a while now.”

 

Jemma blinks, swallowing down the lump that immediately forms in her throat. “Fitz, she and Grant just broke up.”

 

“I know,” he winces. “But that’s the thing, I’m going to need time anyway.”

 

“Time for what, exactly?”

 

“Time to—be more like Grant. Like someone she would want to date.”

 

“I’m not following you,” Jemma says slowly. She takes a long pull from her bottle of beer in an effort to maintain her composure.

 

“Well before Grant there was Miles, yeah?”

 

“Right,” Jemma confirms. “But Grant and Miles were nothing alike to begin with.”

 

“More alike then you might think,” Fitz says, holding up a finger. He rummages in his bag and pulls out a crumpled sheet of paper. “Here I’ve listed their top qualities…and the qualities that made her break up with them.”

 

Jemma’s heart constricts at his earnestness (and his desperation) in his pursuit of Skye. She’d always recognized that Fitz had a crush on her roommate. After all, most men with eyes and a pulse seemed to. Skye had never really been single since she moved in with Jemma just after college, though, and so she’d always seen Fitz’s crush as harmless—both to him and her.

 

Because she would never have to see him in the mornings, standing in her kitchen making Skye breakfast, and he would never get his heart broken by Skye’s usual indecisiveness and inability to stick to one thing for very long.

 

“It seems as though you’re quite prepared,” she finally says after she spends several long moments staring blankly at his list, hardly taking in the contents. “So what do you need my help with?”

  
“I need you to help me become that.”

 

“Become what?”

 

“That!” Fitz exclaims, poking at the column that says “Both.”

 

Jemma lifts it up into the light and reads them out loud. “Fit. Smart. Rebellious. Funny. Well-dressed.”

 

He nods eagerly, looking far less embarrassed by the whole thing now that he’s come out with it. “Will you help me? Please, Jemma. I’ve had a crush on her for so long.”

 

Jemma looks between Fitz—sweet, scrawny, mop-headed Fitz—and the list in front of her. She pictures Skye in her mind’s eye, lips pressing against his, and she fights down the urge to vomit.

 

“Of course I’ll help you, Fitz,” she tells him with a well-practiced smile. It’s the one she’s worn for years, every time he asks her to set him up or help him get ready for a date. “What are friends for?”

 

“You’re the best, Simmons.”

 

**[Day One]**

“I’m not going to this alone,” Fitz insists, dragging her by the arm toward the gym.

 

“I set you up the appointment,” Jemma whines. “I don’t see why I have to join you.”

 

“You’ve seen me run,” he hisses, turning around to glare at her. “I’m not working out by myself!”

 

“You won’t be by yourself,” she reminds him. “Antoine Triplett is supposed to be a fantastic trainer.”

 

“Even worse,” Fitz groans. “Some Adonis to humiliate me in public.”

 

“I’m not paying for myself,” she huffs, crossing her arms.

 

“Of course not,” he replies immediately. “It’s on me. Besides, you’ve been saying you wanted to get in better shape ever since the Stairwell Incident.”

 

Jemma grimaces as she recalls the day he’d found her leaning against one of the walls in the stairwell, drenched in sweat and gasping for breath. The elevator in their office building had broken, forcing her to walk up to the 12th floor. She’d made it to the 10th before she had to stop—unfortunately for her, it had been right around the time Fitz had chosen to head out for a chance at photographing Tony Stark.

 

“We swore to never speak of that again.”

 

“ _You_ swore to never speak of that again,” he mocks. “Besides, you’ll have plenty of ammunition after this. Trust me.”

 

She shoots him an unamused look. “I don’t have my gym clothes.”

 

Fitz smiles nervously and holds up a bag. “I’ve got them right here.”

 

“How did you—“

 

“Skye let me in,” Fitz shrugs. “I told her you forgot something and needed it down at the paper as soon as possible.”

 

She glares at him but snatches the bag out of his hands and swings open the door to the gym. “You owe me. A lot.”

 

“Don’t I know it,” he agrees. He lets her enter the gym first and then takes a deep breath, following after her.

 

Jemma goes into the women’s locker room to change and he waits for their trainer on his own, shifting awkwardly in his trainers and looking around at the incredibly muscular men grunting and sweating all over the place.

 

“Leo Fitz?” a smooth voice asks. He looks up into the beaming face of Antoine Triplett. Great, he’s just as god-like as Fitz had expected. “Antoine Triplett, but you can just call me Trip.”

 

“Just Fitz for me,” Fitz says, holding out his hand and then thinking better of it. The last thing he wants to do is compare…hand sizes, with this guy.

 

“And Jemma Simmons,” Jemma pipes up, bouncing into place beside Fitz. “We spoke on the phone?”

 

“I didn’t realize it would be both of you,” Trip says. “Although I probably should have realized that your pretty voice would be attached to an even prettier face.”

 

Jemma blushes and runs a hand over her ponytail. “Oh no, I look a mess right now.”

 

“Nah,” he chuckles warmly. “Not at all. Alright, we’ll have to adjust a few of my plans to accommodate both of you but we’ll figure it out as we go. I don’t often get many couples that—“

 

“Oh we’re not a couple!” Jemma practically squeaks. Fitz raises his eyebrows, looking a bit annoyed with her.

 

“Well that was rather fast,” he grumbles. This seems to fluster her even more.

 

“I just…I didn’t want him to think…we’re doing this for _Skye.”_

Fitz scratches behind one ear. “Right, yeah. Skye.”

 

Trip glances between them and claps his hands. “Alright, let’s get going. How about we start you out with some cardio? We’ll do an interval workout on the treadmill.”

 

Jemma holds back a disappointed groan. The last thing she wants to do is run on a treadmill right now. After all, she’s not the one trying to seduce her roommate. She can see how uncomfortable and nervous Fitz is, though—he’s always felt physically inadequate and awkward, and she’d hate to leave him to this on his own. Jemma Simmons is nothing if not loyal, so she steps onto the treadmill beside his and gives him an encouraging smile.

 

Trip instructs them to start at a walking pace, and they begin. Jemma isn’t sure where to look. If she looks at Fitz, it’ll make him uncomfortable. If she stares at Trip, she’s pretty sure she’ll be blinded by his smile. If she stares at the wall in front of her, it’ll make both of them think she’s uncomfortable.

 

Which, of course, she is.

 

Just as she begins to think that maybe this exercise thing isn’t so bad, Trip instructs them to turn the speed up to 6.0. Suddenly incredibly aware of her limbs, Jemma struggles to keep up with the pace of the machine. Glancing out of the corner of her eye, she sees that Fitz isn’t faring much better than she is. Cheeks red, sweat glistening on his brow—her thoughts begin to drift to other circumstances in which he might look this way.

 

And then her feet stop moving but the treadmill doesn’t. It only takes a split second of non-movement to send her flying off of the back of the treadmill, body smacking into the wall behind her like a rag doll.

 

“Jemma!” Fitz shouts, looking behind him to check on her. He also makes the mistake of stopping. In the span of 30 seconds, both of them have managed to be tossed from the equipment like bad bull riders. He lands beside her with a startled shout.

 

Jemma chances a glance at Trip. Their trainer looks simultaneously shocked and amused, one hand over his mouth. She can tell by the crinkles around his eyes that he’s trying his best not to laugh at them.

 

“Ow,” Fitz says dully, smirking at her.

 

This sets her off, and soon she can’t stop laughing. Neither can he, and Trip has to walk away to maintain any semblance of professionalism with half of the gym staring at their little group.

 

“Please don’t make me do this again,” Jemma says as Fitz helps her to her feet.

 

“Together or not at all, Jemma.”

 

“How about not at all?”

 

“Jemma!”

 

**[Day Four]**

Unsurprisingly, Fitz is a difficult makeover subject. Despite his insistence that he wants to do this, he does not cooperate with her choices.

 

“I’m telling you, Fitz, Skye would like this,” Jemma insists, shoving a dark grey henley t-shirt at him. “Perhaps with a flannel over it.”

 

“I’ll look like I’ve just crawled out of the garbage.”

 

Jemma snorts. “That really is how Miles looked, wasn’t it?”

  
“Yes!” Fitz agrees emphatically. “I don’t want to look like that.”

 

“Then just dress like this,” she sighs in exasperation, gesturing at his button-down shirt and cardigan. “I think you dress perfectly well.”

 

“Perfectly well does not mean well-dressed,” he points out. He leans against the rack of clothes beside him, only to stumble when they begin to roll away. Jemma laughs and grabs him by the shoulders, turning him around and marching him out of Urban Outfitters.

 

“Obviously this place isn’t going to work for you.”

 

“I just—Skye always says that I dress a bit…childish,” Fitz explains. He looks longingly at the Hot Dog on a Stick as they walk by and Jemma makes a mental note to buy him one if he behaves himself for the rest of the afternoon.

 

“When has Skye ever said that?” Jemma asks. “I’m pretty sure _I’m_ the one who said that.”

 

“You said I dress unprofessionally,” he reminds her with a crooked smile.

 

“You wore a cardigan to photograph the mayor,” she fires back.

 

“He complimented me on it,” Fitz grins. She rolls her eyes and he continues. “I just think—maybe I shouldn’t try to look exactly like Miles or Grant but if I did something to make me look—less like her little brother.”

 

“You’re older than her.”

 

“Not the point,” he replies. “So I dunno. Make me look…older, would you?”

 

Jemma sighs and takes an abrupt right into Macy’s. “Alright, we’ll find you some older looking clothes. For the record, I still like the cardigans. Just not at work.”

 

“Noted,” he says. Jemma stops in the Men’s section and begins sorting through a rack of monochrome button-down shirts. “These are all rather dull. Where’s all the prints?”

 

“As cute as your banana print shirt is, I don’t think it’s exactly _adult,”_ Jemma says, hardly able to hold back her smile.

 

“You think it’s cute, huh?” he teases.

 

“Not on you,” she rushes to say. “Just in general.”

 

“Ah.”

 

She yanks several shirts off of the rack, in different shades of blue and grey, and shoves them into his arms. Then she turns toward the slacks and starts holding them up to his body, head tilted to the side. Jemma does her best to ignore the flutter in her stomach as her fingers brush against his hips. When she decides on a pair that looks like they’ll fit him well, she looks up to tell him so, only to find that her face is now incredibly close to his.

 

“These should do,” she breathes. She nearly grimaces at how pathetic she sounds, but if Fitz notices he doesn’t make any indication of it. Instead, just just pulls them out of her hands and throws them over his shoulder.

 

“Great. Dressing room?”

 

She points him toward the sign and lets him get a head start. She puts her face in her hands for a second, huffing out a frustrated breath. Then she pastes on her smile and trails after him. She takes a seat on the uncomfortable chair perched in the dressing room and pulls out her phone, typing out a quick text to her college roommate.

 

_[Jemma:] Hey, are you free for dinner tonight? I really need to vent._

_[Bobbi:] Sure. Whose ass am I kicking?_

_[Jemma:] Nobody’s! Phil’s at 6:30?_

_[Bobbi:] See ya there_

By the time she’s finished making her plan with Bobbi, Fitz is standing in front of her with his hands on his hips, wearing a navy blue button down and grey slacks. Her mouth goes a bit dry as she stares up at him.

 

“So?” he asks, eyes hopeful.

 

“That looks…very nice,” she tells him. He furrows his brow.

 

“You look funny. Are you lying to me?”

  
“As if I could,” she tells him. “Really Fitz, it looks wonderful. Perfect fit.”

 

He beams at her, looking very relieved, and nods decisively. “Alright, I’ll take it all then. No need to try on all the other colors, they’re all the same thing.”

 

He disappears to change back into his normal clothes and she slumps in the chair, grateful that she won’t have to watch a parade of him looking incredibly handsome. For someone else. For her roommate.

 

On their way back to her car, she stops him in front of the white and red Hot Dog on a Stick. Jemma gives his arm a little squeeze. “I think you’ve earned this. For good behavior and all.”

 

“Oh Jemma,” he sighs happily. “You’re brilliant. That’s what you are.”

 

“How many?” she responds, stepping up to the register. “And if you say more than three I’m taking you back to Trip immediately and making him run you for an hour.”

 

“Three,” he replies meekly. She laughs and pats his cheeks.

 

“Aw, Fitz.”

 

She orders him four. She doesn’t tell Trip.

 

***

 

“So let me get this straight,” Bobbi says slowly. “You’re helping him become Skye’s idea of the perfect man, because he has a crush on her.”

 

Jemma nods miserably, picking at the French fries in front of her. “Yes.”

 

“You’re not actually going to do this, are you?” Bobbi asks disbelievingly.

 

“What else am I gonna do?” Jemma asks. “He’s my best friend in the world.”

 

“And you’re also in love with him,” Bobbi reminds her. She reaches across the table and snatches a French fry. “This is seriously screwed up.”

 

“I know it is,” Jemma admits. “But I just want him to be happy. And if Skye is what will make him happy—“

 

“Please, him and Skye?” Bobbi snorts. “You can’t be serious. They’re so incompatible.”

 

“Well he doesn’t seem to think so.”

 

“And what do you think?” Bobbi presses.

 

“I’m inclined to agree with you,” Jemma says after a beat. “I knew he liked her when she first moved in, but it didn’t seem—I thought he had moved on from that, the more he got to know her. Apparently not. And that’s not to say I don’t adore Skye, you know I do.”

 

“It’s just that she doesn’t make any sense for him,” Bobbi fills in. Jemma nods gratefully and Bobbi reaches over to pat her hand. “Have you ever thought about just telling him how you feel?”

 

“Oh, I never _dreamed—“_

“But you have,” Bobbi interrupts. “I’m sure you _have_ dreamed, about telling Fitz and having things work out for you two. And Jemma, it could be _so_ great if you would just give it a chance.”

 

“I tried!” Jemma bursts out. “Or did you forget me crying on your couch for hours?”

 

Bobbi’s face softens. “I know, Jemma. Of course I remember. But then you gave up, and you met Will, and—“

 

“I never gave up,” Jemma mumbles, shifting her attention to the tabletop. “I just—thought I could settle, that I could be content with someone else. But then I realized that I couldn’t.”

 

Bobbi smiles sadly. “I know that feeling.”

  
“Oh, I’m so awful,” Jemma huffs. “Have you heard from Hunter?”

 

Bobbi shakes her head. “Not yet. But I’m still hoping.”

 

“He always comes back,” Jemma says gently. “You know he will this time, too.”

 

They sit in silence for a while, ruminating on their respective romantic debacles. Then Bobbi speaks up.

 

“Wanna go grab some ice cream and watch The Notebook?”

 

“Oh, absolutely.”

 

**[Day Seven]**

It’s been a week of being Fitz’s Romance Guru, as he’s begun to refer to her, and she’s emotionally and physically exhausted. Between going to the gym before work with him, running around with him on their lunch breaks to get various clothing items and accessories, and coaching him through date materials over take out in the evenings, Jemma is fairly certain she’s going to lose her mind.

 

But she pushes on, helping him choose his best outfits and advising him to try going a few days without shaving. It turns out the scruff on his face just makes him ten times more attractive and, when he cuts his curls off despite her advice, the entire thing gets out of control.

 

She’s transformed her Fitz into a bonafide dream boat, just to throw him into the arms of another woman. Another woman who she _lives_ with.

 

“Hey,” Fitz greets. Jemma jumps, closing the browser on her computer as quickly as she can. She’d been looking at 1 bedroom apartments close to work. If this works out, she has the distinct feeling that she’s going to have to move. “What were you looking at?”

 

“Oh, nothing,” Jemma lies through her teeth. “Just some research.”

 

“I thought you finished the research for the astrophysics story.”

  
“Oh I did,” she replies, racking her brain for another story she could have been working on. “It was for something else.”

 

“Right,” Fitz says. “Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I got permission to photograph at the Observatory tonight. I thought you might want to come with me.”

 

She smiles excitedly, hopping slightly in her chair. “Ooh, the observatory!”

 

“We’ll have the whole thing to ourselves,” he practically sing-songs. “I know how much you love it there.”

 

“In another life, I think I’d like to have been an astronaut,” Jemma muses. “Perhaps a scientist, someone who studies the mysteries out there.”

 

He grins at her and, in a jerky movement, reaches out and ruffles her hair. Her heart sinks like a stone. Even Jemma, with her lack of social graces, knows that ruffling a woman’s hair is a clear move to put her in the Little Sister Zone.

 

“Well, I can’t make you a scientist but I _can_ make sure we get to use the telescopes to our heart’s content tonight. I’ll pick you up at your place at 7:00.”

 

She nods tucks her hair behind her ears. “Skye usually gets home around 6:00. Do you want to come early and have a drink or something? That way she can see all of this.”

 

Jemma points her index finger at him, wiggling it up and down. He looks down at himself and then back up at her, one hand flying to the back of his neck.

 

“I uh, I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

 

“If you’re sure,” Jemma shrugs. “I just thought, since you haven’t seen her yet—“

 

“I don’t think I’m ready yet,” he interrupts. There’s a strange edge to his voice that she doesn’t understand, but she decides to ignore it. The last thing she wants to do is somehow become further embroiled in Fitz’s romantic life.

 

“Alright. See you at 7:00 then.”

 

***

 

When he picks her up, he looks inexplicably nervous—and he’s dressed in a full suit. She looks down at her own outfit, a blouse and a pair of jeans, and bites her lip nervously.

 

“Am I not formal enough?” she asks.

 

“No, no, you’re fine,” he says. He holds out a hand to grab her arm and lead the way to his car. “Let’s go.”

 

“No, hold on,” Jemma argues. “Let me just change into some black jeans instead. Come in for a second.”

 

“Jemma we’ve got to—“

 

“You’re not meeting the docent until 7:45!” she exclaims, throwing her hands up. “I look silly next to you.”

 

He rolls his eyes. “You could never look silly.”

 

“Oh really?” Jemma challenges, crossing her arms. “Because if I remember correctly, you were the one who told me I looked like a banana when we went to interview the Prime Minister of Canada.”

 

He stifles a laugh at the memory. “I was just…hungry. I didn’t mean that.”

 

She drags him inside of her apartment. “Just wait in the living room, would you?”

 

“Hey Fitz!” Skye greets from the kitchen. “Long time no see.”

 

He moves further into the room and Skye whistles.

 

“Damn, looking sharp kiddo!” Skye grins. “Did you get a makeover or something?”

 

“Or something,” he says awkwardly, putting his hands on his hips. “How have you been?”

 

“Good,” she chirps. “So, date night tonight?”

 

Skye waggles her eyebrows suggestively and Fitz colors. “What? No! Jemma and I are friends. Partners. Adventure buddies.”

 

“Adventure buddies?” Jemma asks from the doorway. “Perhaps that’ll be our new hashtag.”

 

“We don’t need a hashtag,” Fitz reminds her harshly. “I don’t know why you insist that we have a damn hashtag.”

 

“It’s so the rest of us can keep up with your goings-on,” Skye teases. “Have fun, adventure buddies.”

 

“We will,” Jemma smiles, fighting to keep the disappointment out of her tone. It’s already beginning, and she already hates it. She walks out of the apartment, Fitz hot on her heels, and locks the door behind her. “Looks like Skye noticed your new look. I think you got quite a positive reaction.”

 

“Mhm,” he hums absently.

 

“You don’t seem very pleased.”

 

“What?” he asks. “Sorry, just a little distracted I guess.”

 

“Nevermind,” she says, deciding to use the out that he’s given her. “So, do you have any ideas for what you want to shoot when we get there?”

 

He grins, launching into an excited tangent about the variety of different ways to photograph the night sky. He’d purchased a few books and devoured them, eager to try a new type of photography. She watches him talk, reaching over at one point to stabilize the wheel when he starts talking with both hands. He takes it back from her seamlessly and she doesn’t even yell at him for nearly running them off of the road.

 

She loves the way he lights up when he talks about his job. She loves the way he talks, the way he gestures, the way he always knows the best shots to take that will really bring out the true themes of her articles. She loves most everything about him, and it drives her up the wall.

 

When they arrive at the observatory, she follows him through the main doors and watches as he introduces himself to Rosalind Pierce, the head docent. Jemma does the same, and she leads them around for a few minutes before she lets them know that she’ll be leaving. A security guard will lock up for them when they’re finished. Jemma finally tires of watching Fitz lumber around with his arms full of equipment, so she slides one of the man bags off of his shoulder and throws it over her own.

 

“You don’t have to—“

 

“Please, Fitz, I’ve been your pack mule for years. Where to first?”

 

“Observation deck,” he says, nodding toward the stairs that will take them there. “I think I can get a great view of the moon from the West end of it.”

 

“After you.”

 

While he sets up and gets to work, Jemma wanders off to one of the telescopes. Her father had always taken her star gazing, and she hardly has to reference the instruction placard in order to get started. After setting her preferred coordinates, she adjusts the height and presses her eye to the view finder.

 

“Wow!” she gasps. “Oh Fitz, it’s so beautiful!”   


“Is it? I’ll have to take a look through something that’s not a camera lens,” he laughs. She hears the clicking of his camera stop and he approaches her, coming to stand behind her. He leans one hand on the railing in front of her, pressing his chest (and, rather uncomfortably, his camera) into her back.

 

Her breath hitches and she clears her throat to cover it up. “Right, here you are.”

 

Maneuvering awkwardly, she escapes his grasp so that he can take a look through the telescope. If she didn’t know him like the back of her hand, she would think he looked disappointed when she skittered away.

 

But she does, and he doesn’t, so she moves down to another telescope instead.

 

**[Day Ten]**

“What is she doing here?” Fitz asks harshly.

 

“What do you mean?” Jemma asks curiously, blinking at him in surprise. “I invited Skye because she always comes to 2 for 1 Tuesdays.”

 

“Why did you invite _me_ then?”

 

“Because you like her,” Jemma says matter-of-factly. “Fitz, you asked me to help you, and so far all you’ve done is started dressing better and whining at the gym.”

 

“Hey, I think I’m finally starting to see some results!”

 

She rolls her eyes. “Of course you are. You’ve always been well-formed and symmetrical.”

 

“I just…I don’t think this is going to work,” he tells her anxiously as Skye gets closer and closer to their table. “Women like…her, don’t go for guys like me.”

 

“Well I like you very much,” she cuts him off. She places her hand over his on the table and gives it a little squeeze. “Just as you are.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Really,” she says genuinely, hoping that he can’t hear the utterly ridiculous longing in her voice. “I always have, and I always will.”

 

“Hey guys!” Skye greets, sliding into the booth beside Jemma. Deciding that she might as well get this horrid torture over with, Jemma nods to the other side.

 

“Hello, Skye. You know, I’m actually waiting for…a blind date, would you mind sitting with Fitz?”

 

Skye’s jaw drops. “You’re kidding me. Jemma Simmons, you dog! You never told me you had a date tonight.”

 

“Yes, well, we’ll see,” Jemma says awkwardly. Skye shifts over to the other side of the booth and Jemma scrambles out of it. “I’m going to grab another drink. Do you want the other one, Skye?”

 

“Margarita?” Skye asks hopefully.

 

“Of course,” Jemma laughs. Skye nods eagerly and Jemma sets off for the bar, practically choking on the lump building in her throat.

 

She _hates_ this and she absolutely hates that Bobbi was right. This was a horrible idea and she never should have done it. Skye laughs loudly at something that Fitz says and Jemma flinches, leaning against the bar and waiting for the bar tender.

 

“Hey there,” a voice says. “Didn’t expect to ever see you outside of the gym.”

 

She looks up into the face of Trip and attempts a smile. “Oh hello, Trip.”

 

“C’mon girl, I don’t get a real smile?”

 

“I’m sorry,” she sighs. “Just not in the smiling mood, I suppose.”

 

“Well nothing helps bring a smile onto your face quite like a margarita,” Trip says, nodding at the drinks her bartender places in front of her.

 

Jemma glances back anxiously; at some point, Fitz had placed his arm on the back of the booth, not quite around Skye’s shoulders but not _not_ around her shoulders either. “I have to give one of these to her, but…would you like to join us? I’m a bit of a third wheel right now.”

 

“Right, not a couple,” Trip recalls. He picks up his beer and gestures toward her table. “Go ahead.”

 

Fitz looks up with wide eyes when Trip slides in beside Jemma. “Trip.”

 

“Hi Fitz,” Trip greets. He reaches across to introduce himself to Skye, and Jemma feels a wave of panic when Skye’s eyes light up.

 

 _Oh no,_ Jemma thinks. _She’s about to break poor Fitz’s heart._

And from there, the night goes just as horribly as Jemma originally anticipated it would. Skye spends nearly an hour fawning over Trip as Fitz sulks in the corner of the booth, ferociously poking at the ice in his glass. Jemma tries her best to start conversations that will include all of them, but Trip and Skye don’t seem particularly interested in doing any of that.

 

Fitz drains his drink and slams it down on the table. “I’m going to get another. Skye?”

 

“Oh, yeah!” Skye says after a beat. She slides out and stands so that Fitz can move freely around the room. Her eyes don’t leave Trip’s face, not even once, and Jemma watches Fitz walk away with a burgeoning feeling of anger.

 

“He likes you!” Jemma practically shouts, smacking one hand on the table. Skye finally stops chattering and turns to stare at her, shocked. “Fitz _really_ likes you and he’s done all of this _ridiculous_ stuff to make himself ‘good enough for you’, and you don’t even appreciate it!”

 

“Jemma…”

 

“No, let me finish!” Jemma rants. Trip seems to sense her next move and scrambles out of the booth to release her. “Fitz is an amazing person. He’s handsome and smart and funny and successful. He never eats the last chip until you tell him he can and he loves his mum and he’s _always_ there with a pint of ice cream and Doctor Who after a bad day, and if you don’t like him _now,_ even with the fancy suits and the sexy scruff and the working out then you don’t _deserve_ him!”

 

“Jemma,” Fitz says, voice raspy. She whips around, chest heaving from the exertion of her shouting, and feels her entire body go numb. Snatching her purse off of the booth, she throws it over her shoulder and blinks back tears.

 

“Fitz, I’m so sorry,” she whispers. ”I didn’t mean to—I need to leave. I need to leave right now.”

 

“Jemma, wait!” he calls out, but she’s already running as fast as her legs can take her. She doesn’t stop until she’s three blocks away. She hails a cab and only once she’s clearly pronounced her address, she leans her head against the window and lets the tears fall.

 

The cab driver remains blissfully quiet, ignoring her emotional outburst. She hands him a twenty-dollar bill, telling him to keep the change, and dashes up the stairs leading to her doorstep. She stumbles into the little blue house that she shares with Skye and immediately moves to her bedroom, kicking off her shoes and slapping her hands over her face.

 

She contemplates calling Bobbi and asking if she can stay there for the night, but then she remembers that Hunter had finally come back yesterday. She’d hate to impose on them, so she just presses her face into her pillow and forces herself to calm down.

 

She is a grown woman. A successful, educated, nubile woman with an above-average fashion sense. And yes, it was silly of her to fall in love with her best friend all of those years ago, but this is not the worst thing that’s ever happened to her.

 

Jemma Simmons is the queen of spin. She’s a horrible liar but she knows how to state the facts in a way that’s most favorable to her, so she’ll just have to do that now. When Fitz inevitably calls her tomorrow, she’ll explain to him that she really, really didn’t mean to reveal his feelings to Skye and that all of that stuff she’d said about him had been friendly. Practically maternal, really. She’s just protective and she let it get the best of her.

 

“Yes,” she tells herself firmly. She rolls off of her bed and goes into the kitchen to make herself a calming cup of tea. “It’ll be fine. I’ll apologize to Skye and again to Fitz, and everything will be fine.”

 

She grabs the remote for the stereo, clicking it on to break the silence of the house as the kettle heats up. Jemma opens the cabinet, pulling out her favorite mug, and busies herself with filling her tea steeper with her favorite loose leaf that she only drinks on special occasions.

 

“This seems like a special occasion,” she murmurs wryly to herself.

 

The music is so loud that she doesn’t hear the front door open.

 

“Got enough for two?” Fitz asks. She gasps, sloshing hot tea onto her hands and cursing. “Shit, Jemma, I’m so sorry.”

 

She laughs a bit bitterly, rushing to the sink to douse her hands in cold water. “I think I’m the one who should be sorry.”

 

“For what?”

 

“For embarrassing you like that,” she sighs, turning off the faucet with her elbow. She turns back around and Fitz holds out a dish towel out to her, suddenly much closer to her then he had been before. She reaches for it, but rather than giving it to her, he wraps her hands it in gently and pats them dry. His eyes don’t leave hers, but she has to wrench her gaze away from his.

 

She’s already done something stupid tonight. The last thing she needs is to do is humiliate herself further.

 

“You didn’t embarrass me,” he assures her. “You could never embarrass me.”

 

“Even when I’m dressed like a banana?” she jokes, attempting to lighten the mood. He unwraps the dish towel from her hands, nodding slowly and tossing it onto the counter.

 

“Even then.”

 

Despite her lightness, Fitz seems completely serious. She chances another glance up at him. “Fitz?”

 

“I lied to you,” he says quietly.

 

“What..,what do you mean?” she gasps out. She and Fitz have never lied to each other—ever.

 

“I didn’t do this, any of this, for Skye,” he admits. One trembling hand comes up to tuck her hair behind her ear. “I—I wanted to see what you would do, if I said I liked her and then it spiraled into all of this.”

 

“I don’t understand.”

 

“It was so stupid,” he says, eyes pleading with her to understand. “I didn’t want to hurt you. And you didn’t seem hurt or jealous or anything, so I just—I tried to move on but I thought that maybe if I—“

 

“Fitz, I’m so lost,” she tells him. “I don’t…please, you’re not making sense.”

 

He reaches into his back pocket and hands her a folded sheet of paper. “This is the original list.”

 

She unfolds it and inhales sharply. “This is…”

 

“A list of the best qualities of all the guys you’ve dated since I met you,” he fills in. “I was…I tried to throw you off, with the Skye list. I thought if I was more like _them,_ you might see me as more than just your best friend.”

 

“But Fitz, you’re so much more than that.”

 

“I am?”

 

She nods, afraid to speak again. The emotions welling up inside of her don’t bode well for her speaking voice, but Fitz saves her from further conversation. He surges forward, pressing her against the countertop and pressing his lips to hers. One of his hands lingers at her hip, the other moving into her hair and she sighs against his mouth, completely overwhelmed by the events of the last thirty minutes.

 

When he finally pulls away, she follows after him, kissing him softly one last time with her eyes still shut.

 

“Does this mean we can stop going to the gym?” she finally says. He laughs loudly and she feels it vibrate through his ribs and into hers.

 

“Oh thank god,” he chuckles into her hair. “I was _really_ worried you were going to want to keep that way.”

 

“I’ve got some better ideas as to how we can exercise,” she says suggestively. He pulls back to look at her with raised eyebrows and she confirms with a jerky, excited little nod. His hand wraps around hers and she uses it to drag him forward, walking backward toward her room.

 

When they emerge in the morning, disheveled and with Fitz in last night’s clothes, Skye grins at them both. She puts down her coffee and leans forward expectantly. “I assume this means you’re no longer mad at me? And that Fitz is no longer in love with me?”

 

“I’m not in love with you!” Fitz yelps. “I never was!”

 

“Relax, genius,” Skye scoffs. “I knew that already. The only one who didn’t was this one.”

 

“Yes well, I can’t _always_ get the facts straight on the first go around.”

 

“Mhm,” Fitz mumbles, kissing her cheek. Skye gags and grabs her mug, heading off to her bedroom. “That’s what I’m here for.”

 

“I did always feel better, having you as my second pair of eyes.”


End file.
